A child's hands hold his favorite toy
With which he played and dreamt of things
Until it broke and spoiled his joy.
He carries every broken piece
To Daddy where he tearful cries
It's broken, can you fix it please?
Don't worry Son, I'll make it good as new.
Now wipe away your tears, sit here,
Trust me, I know just what to do.
A man's hands hold a troubled life
For which he planned and worked out schemes
'Til confused and filled by greed and strife.
From lessons learned so long ago
Seeks by faith the Father who can
Repair his broken life of woe.